


Welcome to Wonderland

by buttons_n_bose



Category: Alice by Heart - Sheik/Sater/Sater & Nelson
Genre: Alternate Universe - Role Reversal, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Grieving, Growing Up, Lost Love, Moving On, Songfic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-11
Updated: 2020-10-10
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:22:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26943622
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/buttons_n_bose/pseuds/buttons_n_bose
Summary: Before Alice dies, she makes Alfred promise to learn to love again. It’s been years, and Alfred hasn’t touched “Alice in Wonderland” since her death. But now he has you, and he wants to share it. Based on "Welcome to Wonderland" by Anson Seabra.
Relationships: Alfred Hallam/Alice Spencer, Alfred Hallam/Reader
Kudos: 3





	Welcome to Wonderland

“...and find a pleasure in all their simple joys, remembering her own child-life, and the happy summer days.” Alfred closed the book slowly, watching Alice. He had memorized the words long ago, and hadn’t looked at the pages as he recited them.  
  
Alice was looking particularly awful. The colour had gone from her face a few days before and hadn’t returned, despite the doctor’s best efforts. Her skin glistened with sweat, dark hair plastered to her forehead. Alfred brushed it away, tucking the strands behind her ear. The action stirred her, and she opened her eyes.  
  
“You didn’t fall asleep again, did you?” Alfred teased quietly.  
  
She shook her head ever so slightly. “No. I heard the end.”  
  
“Good. I promised I’d finish it, didn’t I?”  
  
“Mhm.” Alice opened her eyes, meeting Alfred’s gaze. “You never break a promise.”  
  
“Never,” he said, another promise.  
  
Alice fell into another fit of coughs, curling up in the thin sheets the nurse had tossed over her. Blood fell from her lips and into her handkerchief, and Alfred’s stomach twisted at the sight. He never had liked blood, but he’d started to power through for Alice. She was more important than his discomfort.  
  
It was a while before Alice stopped coughing, though she looked considerably weaker. Her eyes were closed again, and didn’t seem to be opening any time soon. Her fingers curled loosely around her handkerchief, her other hand in Alfred’s. He hadn’t let go since the start of the book.  
  
“Alfie,” she whispered, “will you make me another promise?”  
  
“Of course.” He set the book beside her, moving closer. “Anything.”  
  
“You know I love you, don’t you?”  
  
He couldn’t help but smile, running his thumb along hers. “I love you, too.”  
  
“I know.” Another weak cough, and she continued: “But I want you to fall in love again.”  
  
Alfred frowned. “I don’t understand.”  
  
“We both know I don’t have much longer,” said Alice, with all the poise of someone who knew their time was running out. “I don’t want you to wallow.”  
  
“Can’t I wallow a little?” He tried for a joking tone, but it didn’t quite come across.  
  
“Only a little. I want you to promise to love again.”  
  
Alfred shook his head. He hated disappointing her, but he also couldn’t imagine loving anyone other than Alice. She was Alice, for God’s sake— _his_ Alice. There was no chance he could feel this way about anyone else.  
  
“ _Alfred,_ ” she insisted, and coughed again, and this time she didn’t stop.  
  
“Alice?” The nurse appeared at her bedside, pressing a hand to the girl’s forehead. Alfred noticed how this woman’s lips were red, too, but by choice. It was painfully ironic. “Alice, can you take a deep breath for me?”  
  
Alice tried, her shaky inhale interrupted by another coughing fit, and the nurse tried to usher Alfred away.  
  
“Wait—”  
  
“I’m sorry, young man, but you can’t be here.”  
  
“But she’s—”  
  
“I won’t ask again, Mister Hallam.”  
  
Alfred met Alice’s eyes once more, and he could see the life fade from them. “I promise,” he found himself saying. He couldn’t let her go without fulfilling her last wish. “I love you.”  
  
Alice smiled, closing her eyes again. She didn’t say it back, but she didn’t need to. Alfred knew.

* * *

Alfred wasn’t sure how much time had gone by, and he didn’t care. The pocket watch his father had given him for his sixteenth birthday had long since stopped telling the right time, but still ticked incessantly in the inner pocket of his jacket. Time still went on, it seemed to say, even if you don’t know when.  
  
The nurse held out the familiar navy-blue book, but Alfred never wanted to see it again.  
  
“She told me to give it to you,” said the nurse.  
  
“I don’t want it,” said Alfred, looking pointedly over her shoulder.  
  
She frowned. “She wanted you to have it.”  
  
“I don’t want it,” he repeated, more insistently this time. If he took that book now, he’d likely burn it at the first chance he got. That wasn’t the fate it deserved.  
  
“Alright.” She left, and Alfred was alone. Truly alone, this time. He glanced at the closed curtain in the corner of the room, but unlike usual, he had no desire to go over to it.  
Nothing waited for him on the other side but bloodstained sheets and more cold walls.

* * *

Alfred was happy when the war was over— of course he was. He had found a room at a hostel for boys and was doing rather well for himself...except that he saw Alice everywhere. In the windowsill. In the field. In the dining hall. He had hoped the ghost of his past would stay in the bunker when he left it, but she followed him still.  
  
He could see her across the street as he left from the bakery. Her cornflower blue dress stood out from the drab overcoats of those around her, and he could practically hear the soles of her boots against the cobblestones. Maybe he should cross the street, just to make sure she wasn’t there…  
  
His thoughts were disrupted as he ran into someone, both of them grabbing the arms of the other to keep from falling down.  
  
“Oh, my apologies, I wasn’t looking...” Alfred stammered an apology as he loosened his grip on his bread bag, the contents surely crushed. “Sorry.”  
  
“It’s quite alright,” you said, laughing a little. “In a rush?”  
  
“Not really.” He hoped the embarrassment wasn’t evident on his face. “Just...distracted.”  
  
“I see.” You straightened your clothes and moved to step around him. “Well, have a good day.”  
  
“Thank you, and same to you,” he said as you walked away. He watched you for a few steps before continuing on his way. When he glanced across the street again, Alice was gone.

* * *

It was always a coincidence when you two met again. Once in the market, once more on the street, and once in the park. Each time was filled with nice conversation, and the last time, he walked you home as the sun sunk below the horizon.  
  
“You’re not like anyone I’ve ever met,” you said as you reached your door.  
  
He looked surprised. “Is that bad?”  
  
“Not at all,” you assured him. “It’s a compliment, actually. Most people I’ve met are rather boring.”  
  
This brought a smile to his face. “A breath of fresh air, then?”  
  
“Precisely.”  
  
“And would you care to join me for some fresh air in the park tomorrow, after lunch?”  
  
You smiled, and though you paused to consider, you didn’t need to think about it. “I’d be delighted.”  
  
“Excellent.” He took a step back, bowing his head slightly. “Goodnight.”  
  
“Goodnight, Mister Hallam.”  
  
He waited until you were inside before heading down the road, a slight spring in his step.

* * *

“Come on, Alfred, we’ll miss the show if we don’t leave now.”  
  
Alfred straightened his jacket before following you out the door. “I thought you didn’t care about the show.”  
  
“I don’t. But I do love an outdoor show, when everyone gathers in the square…”  
  
He laughed at the far-off look in your eyes, something he’d gotten rather used to seeing. You two often shared dreams, hopes you had the future and pleasures you partake in when you had the chance. That night was Shakespeare in the park, and while neither of you were particularly interested in _Henry V_ , it was the air that mattered. You weren’t often allowed out at night, but your parents had come around to the idea as long as you were accompanied by Alfred.  
  
Alfred never minded taking you out. The two of you had grown close quickly, and were soon the best of friends. It took him awhile to admit as much, and he seemed so nervous when he told you, but it was a milestone you both held close to your hearts.  
  
The walk wasn’t long. The air was crisp and cool, and he offered you his arm for a portion of it. The show was (arguably) boring, but the night was lovely regardless. He was nervous as he started to walk you home, practically able to feel the words on his tongue but afraid to speak them.  
  
“Are you alright?” you asked him as the two of you stopped on your front step.  
  
“I love you,” he blurted. He couldn’t meet your gaze, instead staring determinedly at his shoes.  
  
You laughed, and a sense of relief washed over him immediately. “I love you, too, Alfred.”  
  
“Oh. Good.” He reached for your hand, lowering his head to brush his lips against the back of it before stepping away. “Goodnight.”  
  
“Goodnight,” you echoed.  
  
As always, he waited to make sure you were safely inside before leaving. He headed home, and though the street was empty, he could have sworn he heard footsteps walking alongside him.

* * *

Alfred stared at the book on his bed. It had been years since he looked at it last; he’d almost forgotten the dent along the binding from when Alice had thrown it in frustration.  
  
_It isn’t fair! She doesn’t even get to say goodbye!_  
  
Alfred had only laughed then, but now he understood. Goodbyes were taken for granted, and they were something to treasure.  
  
He picked up the book gingerly, tracing the golden letters he’d tried so hard to block from memory. Now that it was back in his hands, the sentences rushed to the front of his mind, and he was sure he could recite it without even opening the cover. He could practically smell the mold of the bunker, feel the dank air that surrounded them at all hours of the day, the coughs and pained laughter that came from the other side of that god-awful curtain…  
  
Alfred dropped the book as though it had burned him, and it landed on the blanket with a soft _thump_.  
  
He had promised, hadn’t he? Not only that, but he’d kept good on his word. He’d found love again, despite everything, and he was happy. Maybe it was time to dust off the chest of memories he’d pushed to another room in his head.

* * *

“You don’t have to do this, you know,” you told Alfred again.  
  
“I know,” he said, offering you a small smile. “Although...actually, I think I do.”  
  
The two of you sat in the shade of an old willow tree by the river. Alfred had prepared a picnic, an entire spread that lay out across the blanket you sat on. He leaned back against the tree, the book open in his hands to the first page. He had yet to start, but there was no rush.  
  
You kissed his cheek, then rested your head on his shoulder. He relaxed as he felt you near, and he took a deep breath.  
  
“Alice was beginning to get very tired of sitting by her sister on the bank, and of having nothing to do…”


End file.
